Mysteria
by AineRose
Summary: Lily Evans finds that life post-Hogwarts isn't quite what she hoped it would be. Working on a secret mission in the Department of Mysteries, she struggles to survive on her own. Plus, people keep trying to kill her, and she isn't really sure why.
1. Chapter 1

Lily Evans really missed Hogwarts. On days like this one, she missed the camaraderie of her classmates, of a castle to explore and sprawling grounds to ramble about in. She missed the distraction always having people there, around you. It was difficult to get privacy in Hogwarts, but these days all she had was solitude.

Her field assignment had taken her out of the Order meetings which had been her last contact with the world. At the time, she had been happy to leave the awkwardness and tension that pervaded any room which held her and James, but recently she had begun to miss those small moments which had provided some relief of War.

Lily pulled her hair back as she walked, boots splashing through the rain. The morning was grey and drizzling. She had taken her flat close to the Ministry so that she could walk to work in the mornings, but it had turned out to be one of the worst summers in living memory and now that the days were getting shorter she found herself walking to and from work under darkening skies.

The Main Atrium was bustling busy as always. Usually Lily liked to arrive early for work. The conveniences of magic and floo powder ensured that everyone arrived for work in the two minutes before nine o'clock, clogging up the Atrium and causing pandemonium. Lily found that the more solitary a life she lived, the less she could cope with large crowds. She comforted herself with the assurance that it was safer for her to stay out of sight. In order to walk to work she had to wear Muggle clothing and it suited her usually to wear them at her work as well. Nobody in the Department of Mysteries paid attention to something as small as clothing anyway, not when they were brooding over the nature of life, love, and death. But she always attracted quite a bit of attention when she went to get lunch or coming and leaving through the main Atrium.

There were so many times that she wondered why she was on this assignment anyway. An internship in the Department of Mysteries was a dangerous job, and Unspeakables were always being attacked and tortured for information. Dumbledore had told her that she needed to report on the level of infiltration in the Ministry but she spent all her time holed up in Mysteries. She could not think of a worse person to infiltrate the Wizarding world than a working-class Muggleborn. She did, however, understand the need to guard the Department of Mysteries. Twice she had felt the Imperius Curse take hold of her, the sweet soothing voices urging her to let them in, just let go, _it's fine_. With great difficulty she had always managed to shake them off, but she watched her co-workers sharply for signs of the curse. The Department had issued Occlumency lessons to every unspeakable on appointment and Lily firmly believed that these had helped her to defend herself against the Imperius.

She took the empty lift down to Mysteries. The slick stone walls reminded her of Hogwarts Castle and despite the dark and dampness she found it quite comforting. There was something about old magic and stones, she mused. They went together so well.

The Love Rooms were warm and pulsing. She hurried past the locked door that housed the True Love Room but felt the little pulse of energy it sent through her. This was her favourite part of the day, when the magic in the rooms soaked into her skin and warmed her heart. She pulled off her coat and started work. The Love Rooms contained huge fountains of love potions, and her skills at potion-making allowed her to progress to making the most difficult of potions after only a year working there. It was taxing work, and she passed the morning immersed in her batch of Amortentia. By late afternoon, however, her mind had started to wander. Her colleagues were all dour, gloomy people. When she had started this work, she had alienated and bored by their attitudes, but then again when she started work she had friends, a boyfriend. She would laugh at James' imitations of her supervisor Deckley, with his plodding step and dour expression. But she had found much respect for her colleagues in the year she had worked there, and she could now work with them comfortably.

By the time that five o'clock came around she was thinking about nothing but dinner and a glass of wine. She hurried out of the office with her head bowed low and her arms braced herself around her. The energy in the room diminished as she passed. This was the worst part of her day, the moment when she was sapped of all the love she had felt so strongly that morning. She felt utterly drained as she leant on the wall for support. She fumbled around in her pockets and found her daily square of chocolate that gave her the strength to continue on her way home.

The Atrium was busier than she expected. She noticed a lot of Aurors milling around, queuing for fires, and suspected that there must have been an attack somewhere. This was the kind of thing Dumbledore would probably want her to investigate, she thought. Then again, he had enough of the Auror Department in the Order that there couldn't possibly be a need for her to blow her cover by asking questions.

She dodged a former classmate, a large Ravenclaw who raised a surprised eyebrow at her jeans and red jacket as a hand circled her wrist and tugged.

"Lily."

It wasn't fair, Lily often thought, that she could be doing something completely mundane and suddenly he would be there, like a sudden gust of wind made flesh. She stared at the grey robes and the Trainee Auror badge pinned to his chest. James Potter looked older, and stronger. His eyes caught hers so unexpectedly that she felt momentarily winded.

"What?" she bit out. It came out so harsher than she had intended.

James looked a little lost for words. He dug his hands into his pockets. "I don't know. I suppose I just…wanted to say hello."

"Oh," she said softly.

"You haven't been to any meetings recently." He dropped his voice at the mention of the Order.

"I'm on assignment," she said quietly. She wondered if he could tell that she was lying.

"I know," he shrugged. "So is Moony. He's infiltrated his…kind. Haven't heard anything of him in six weeks."

"Dumbledore mentioned." She paused awkwardly. "How is everyone?"

"Alright, I s'pose. Considering."

"Yeah," she said, softly. "Considering."

"We're having a bit of a get-together Sunday," he hedged. "For the McKinnon's anniversary. At HQ. You should come." He took a deep breath. "You shouldn't feel like you can't come because we broke up."

"Maybe," she sighed. Merlin, did he have to catch her now? With all of the love in the world drained out of her ten minutes ago.

James stared at her searchingly. She noticed the circles under his eyes and the two-day stubble around his jawline.

"You're starting to look like one," he said quietly. "An Unspeakable. You've got that same expression."

She couldn't help it; she felt her blood boil a little. She opened her mouth to retort that he didn't know what he was talking about, but the words wouldn't come. The Fidelius Charm was unforgiving when it came to a single word about her job, something which she knew James couldn't understand.

He tilted his head to the side to try to read her eyes. "You'd tell someone though, right? If you weren't…fine?"

She nodded her head mutely and he sighed with frustration. A voice reverberated around the room. "POTTER!"

The pair jumped and turned to look at Mad-Eye Moody clunking towards them. "Have you gone deaf?" he roared. "You're the last one!"

Lily looked around her and noticed that all the Aurors had disappeared.

"Coming!" James called, and turned back to her, leaving Moody grumbling and tapping his wooden leg in impatience. "Try and come, won't you? Everyone's worried about you."

She gave a sad little smile that she hoped would mollify him briefly. He seemed mildly satisfied by that.

"POTTER!"

"I have to…"

"Yeah, er, go on then."

He hesitated for a minute, looking unsure of how to say goodbye. When he had gone on his first Auror mission, she had kissed him hard and begged him to stay safe, but she couldn't do that anymore.

"Try not to die, Potter," she said awkwardly.

"You too," he said seriously, and she remembered how much more dangerous his life was to hers. He fought the bad guys, he saved lives. She brewed fake love in a dungeon all day every day.

James turned sharply on his heel and caught up with Moody, who was berating him with relish. Lily watched until he had disappeared through the fire before heading home herself, for a glass of wine and a long cry.

Lily had no intention of going to the McKinnon's anniversary. She had suffered through the funerals in torture, and she felt that the event was probably only an excuse for James and his friends to get everyone drunk. She had once loved their ability to lift everybody's spirits, but that had been when they were young and naïve. Before they had seen so much carnage and violence.

And of everyone, the McKinnons? After everything that they that been through in trying to save them.

She was deeply glad that Dumbledore summoned her for a meeting that Saturday night. She arrived at the Shrieking Shack five minutes early, but he was already waiting for her. It always startled Lily that Dumbledore could make even the ratty setting of the Shack look almost regal. It had been many months since she had last seen Dumbledore. Her Patronus usually sufficed as a messenger if anything interesting occurred.

"Miss Evans," Dumbledore smiled and gestured to a tatty armchair with most of the stuffing ripped out.  
"Please make yourself comfortable."

Lily sat down gingerly at the edge of the armchair and accepted gratefully the cup of tea that glided across the room to her. "How are you, Professor?"

"A little older, but then again who among us can say elsewise." He surveyed her carefully. "I thought, perhaps, Lily, you'd like to have someone to talk to."

"What about?" she asked worriedly. The idea of spilling her guts to her old Headmaster filled her with dread.

"About your mission," he said simply. "I am the only other member of the Order with whom you can freely speak about your daily life."

"There's nothing to say. I brew Amortentia from nine-to-five," she shrugged. "I try to find things out, Professor, I really do, but it's hard to find excuses to leave the Department during work hours and nobody wants to give classified information to a Muggleborn, it-" she stopped when Dumbledore raised his hand.

"I fear you think I brought you here for some manner of reprimand. Let me make it quite clear that I am more than satisfied with your work to date. You have put yourself in considerable danger even in continuing to work in the Ministry of Magic."

"Er…thanks, Professor."

Dumbledore surveyed her over his half-moon spectacles. "You are living alone now."

"I am," she said quietly.

"I am always curious. As a Muggleborn, do you often revert back to the Muggle way of things when left to your own devices?"

"More and more," she admitted. "I find it comforting. I still use magic, of course, but I do like to wait for things to take their own time sometimes. I certainly do things the Muggle way a lot more often than I did when…"

She trailed off awkwardly. She had meant to say when she was staying with James, practically living with James, but she didn't really want to talk about her extramarital cohabitation with Dumbledore. She hoped that he thought she was alluding to her time at Hogwarts. Regardless, he simply smiled gently and nodded.

"And now, Lily, I think we must be going. We have made ourselves fashionably late enough. Musn't keep anyone waiting. I'm sure Sturgis will be closing the wards soon."

"Sturgis?" she faltered. The current Order of the Phoenix was convening these days in the magically enhanced garden shed on Sturgis Podmore's property. Dumbledore looked at her expectantly, and any protest died weakly in her throat.

"Everyone will be so glad to see you," Dumbledore smiled. He nodded to her, and she sighed a little inwardly. Had she even bothered to brush her hair this morning?

She Apparated, feeling the pull around her naval and hearing the whoosh of air that signalled Dumbledore's Apparition. She dimly wondered if he had waited for her to go first, to make sure she would go. As if she would have defied Dumbledore.

It was a very pretty sight, the old ramshackle garden. The old shed was lit up with candles in the windows, and there were pretty twinkling lights hung around the garden.

"_You're drunk." James throws his arm sloppily over her shoulder, pulling her a little closer. She lets him, bumping a little against his chest. _

_It's nice._

"_Am not," she argues, showing him her full glass to prove it._

"_You are." He grins wickedly. "Saintly Lily Evans is totally sloshed. Trollied, pissed as a fart, Tarty."_

"_I'm not tarty!" she proclaims, pretending to act shocked. "I'm wearing jeans."_

"_You are tarty, you tart. Look at you." James tugs on a ringlet. "You've gone and curled your hair and everything. And make-up, who'd have thought?" _

_He presses a sloppy kiss to her neck. It tickles a little, and she giggles. "Shut up, you berk, or I'll never dress up for you again."_

"_As long as it's only for me," he grins, and kisses her. They are interrupted by the appearance of Peter at the door._

"_Prongs!" he squeaks. "You're missing your own party."_

_James smiles a little woozily and kisses her quickly again before leaving, his hands dragging across her neck. "Smashing party, Evans," he murmurs into her hair. _

"_Glad you think so, Potter," she murmurs. "Now, go on ahead. I have to sober up and fix my hair."_

"_Leave it like that," he growls. "'Lets everyone know you're mine."_

"_Am I a commodity?" she protests, and shoos him out. He stumbles slightly at the door._

_She sees him move through the hall and into the kitchen. There is only an inch or two of the kitchen that she can see, but she sees James stumbling through with his arms raised in some kind of victory stance, and she hears his friends roar in celebration._

"_He's got a point," the shadows say._

_Lily jumps back, throws her hand to her throat. "Fuck, Marlene! What are you doing?"_

"_Looking for fags," Marlene says. She rubs her right hand through her hair absently. "Dung left some here I think."_

"_How bad are you, searching through everyone's belongings?"_

"_How bad are you, snogging in a bedroom, dressed like a tart!" Marlene shoots back, without much venom. _

"_You're one to talk," Lily argues. "You look like a biker."_

"_Screw you."_

_Lily sighs, and the world spins a little. "My fags are in the kitchen."_

"_Too far away."_

_Lily flops onto the bed, feeling a little ill. "I feel a little ill," she tells Marlene. She drops her hand to the mattress and pulls up a pack of Major._

"_How desperate are you?" she asks, and throws the pack to the other girl._

_Marlene grins and tears the pack open. She lies down beside Lily, and lights up._

_Lily watches the smoke rings make circles in the air. The smell of Majors is oddly comforting. She thinks of her dad._

_All around her, the walls thump with the heavy bass of music and the stomping of Peter's dancing. The room is cool and dark, however, and she feels her eyes closing. Marlene's arm is warm and solid pressed into her side, and she drifts off._

"_Lily…Lily…" James' whispers draw her out of her muffled sleep. "Come on."_

"_Marls…" she murmurs groggily._

"_Bugger off," Marlene moans._

_James smiles tipsily at her. His hair is sticking up and his glasses are crooked. Lily thinks he looks very inviting, as she falls into his chest and buries her head under his chin. _

_James surveys Marlene skeptically_

"_Leave her," Lily mutters, knowing Marlene's humour when she hadn't had enough sleep. They stumble into a taxi, being far too drunk for Apparation or Floos, and leave Marlene on the bed, gently snoring, eyeliner smeared across her cheek._

_And that is it._

The party was not as loud as Lily expected. In fact, it seemed to be very solemn. Moody informed her, briskly and almost indifferently, that they had lost another member the night before. George Dimmer, a scared, quiet boy Lily remembered after a lot of thought, hiding in the background of their meetings. Nobody really felt like a party anymore, but it is customary enough to group together after these tragedies happen.

She stood by a picture of Marlene's father, smiling and waving, and did a very good impression of a wall. People patted her on the shoulder, but she supposed that she didn't look much like chatting. Sirius Black, one of his eyes bruised mauve, had swirled a measure of brandy into her tea and stalked off. She didn't see James, but Peter was there, avoiding her eyes for fear, she assumed, of how he was supposed to act around her.

She spotted Minerva McGonagall, who politely asked her how she was doing. Without an ability to talk about her career, they fumbled for a safe subject. Minerva seemed unwilling to talk about Hogwarts, and Lily about London.

They were both relieved, therefore, when Mundungus Fletcher made his entrance, landing sprawled on the carpet in a drunken stupor.

Lily offered to take him, partly to figure out how on earth he had managed to Apparate in his state, but also to get away from everyone. She brought him to a little bedroom used for those after missions and cleaned him up, swatting away his attempted slobberings and tucking him in when he succumbed to sleep.

"Found yourself a new boyfriend?" she heard a snide voice from the doorway. Sirius was leaning against the doorframe, with his mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. There was something not right about the way he was holding himself, and though she could not tell what it was, Lily knew that somewhere other than his eye was hurting him.

She stood up, feeling offended beyond belief. "Would it matter, Black?" She felt her jaw clenching. "I'm a single woman."

Sirius snorted, and she narrowed her eyes. "What's your problem?" she demanded him.

She could tell he wanted a fight, and she knew that she was a good person from whom to get one. "My problem is you," he stated simply. "In here fussing over a drunken layabout when-"

"When what?" she demanded.

"When James isn't here yet!" he thundered, and it was his choice to call him James that chilled here more than his tone.

"It's barely dark, Black," she tried to reason with him, because really, no-one else seemed to be worried.

"It doesn't matter," Sirius argued. "Once upon a time you would have been worried with me."

"Once upon a time I'd have been by his side," she spat, and to her horror, felt her eyes prick. "He made it quite clear that he didn't want me to worry about him anymore."

She swept passed him with as much dignity as she could, but she felt him grab her arm as she passed. "You could have tried harder."

It was a dirty dig, and they both knew it. When she fought with Black it always went two steps too far. James could fight with him and see, even through the sharp digs, the fear and desperation behind his eyes. Lily never let herself look.

Stonily, she tore her elbow from his grasp and stalked out of the room.

She was no longer in the mood to stand around quietly. She wanted to pace, to storm. She went from room to room, clenching her fists in frustration until she found herself in the main room where everyone was congregated. Ahead of her, she could see James Potter, with a bruised jaw and tired eyes but clearly alive and well.

She glared at his profile until she realised that people were watching her, and then she decided she needed a cigarette.

The poor cigarette hadn't done anything to her, but it paid for her ire by being squeezed, twisted and eventually stamped upon. The smoke was bitter in her lungs, and the acrid smell reminded her of Marlene.

She couldn't leave without paying her respects, especially not after…

Lily went back into the shed, making a beeline for the back room.


	2. Chapter 2

Lily was a smart witch; she had known the risks. The brewing of Amortentia could have so many side effects. Day in, day out, inhaling the essence of what you love most could cause madness in a matter of weeks. An extra pinch of beetle eyes could cause intense hatred where a stir less could cause instant death. Many the wizard had dropped dead after downing a pumpkin juice spiked with love potion because of the reaction between the pumpkins and the peacock feathers if left standing for too long. The real side effect, however, was the emotional drain. Like tennis elbow or carpal tunnel syndrome, brewing the essence of love every day could take it out of a witch.

Had she gone to a Muggle secondary school and learnt about science she would have known the First Law of Thermodynamics: that energy could not be created nor destroyed, it could only be transferred. As a witch, she had an instinctive understanding of the flow of energy. The love from Amortentia had to come from _somewhere, _even if it was not real love and it could not last.

"The quality of your work has been good for someone so young." Her supervisor, Godfrey Cadurcis, shuffled and rearranged the papers on his desk. "But, I think it is time for something new."

"I like brewing," Lily argued.

Cadurcis regarded her sternly over his spectacles. "I have worked in this department for a long time, Miss Evans. I am well trained in spotting the talents and tipping points of each of my staff."

"I'm not at my tipping point," she protested. "I like my job."

"You are telling me that you aren't increasingly affected by the locked Love Room, that you are not constantly lethargic and uninterested in your daily life? That you do not tremor just a little bit when you work on the more delicate aspects of potion-making?"

Lily flushed but said nothing.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of," he said, almost kindly. "The most accomplished of wizards cannot put so much of themselves into a potion for more than two years. We must decide where to put you. Let's see. I notice the Time Room is in need of some inventory. That should take no more than a month, and then we shall see about moving you on to something that requires a little more _depth_."

Feeling like a complete failure, Lily had resolved to start trying to fulfil her mission to the Order a little better, so she began to eat her lunch in the canteen rather than at her desk. The canteen was large and always busy, the food surprisingly tasteless considering it as made by house elves, and cliquey. At least in Hogwarts, Lily mused, you always had your House table to eat at if you had no friends to sit with. But here, she sat alone. It became ever more obvious to her every time she ventured into the Wizarding public that she was something to be shunned. There were those who shot her dirty looks and fired subtle curses at her back, and there were those who shot her sympathetic smiles but did not dare to talk to her for fear of the same kind of shunning. Without Dumbledore's assistance, she knew that she might not have been able to procure a position in the Ministry of Magic at all, unless she wanted to become an Auror. She didn't though; she had wanted to be a Healer, once upon a time. She had studied all the most basic and some of the more advanced healing spells, practising on Order members after battles and sometimes Remus when he allowed her. She thought of Sirius' black eye and felt a stab of guilt. Sirius had always been one for bravado and dramatics. Without her, he now had the opportunity to show off his battle scars.

Lily ate lunch alone for three days and then went back to eating at her desk.

The Time room was more exciting than the simple potion brewing room she had worked in before, but the work was much more tedious. She spent her days counting Time Turners and magical clocks, categorising them and storing them. She no longer had to pass the Love Room on her way to and from work, which seemed to level out her emotions a little, but without the distraction of complicated and engaging work she found it harder to harder to concentrate. It didn't help that time played tricks in the room, altering her perception so that some days seemed to last for only an hour and others for three times their normal length. It played havoc with her energy and her ability to sleep nights.

Two weeks into her inventory, Lily tried eating in the canteen again, to similar results. She finished her work, bid good evening to her supervisor, and walked home. Later on, she would try to remember in detail that walk. She would remember that it was fresh and clear, that she had felt a little ill after a nasty attempt at lasagna presumably cooked by a house elf who had spent some time in Azkaban. She remembered taking the scenic route, padding down cobbled streets with rustling leaves. She would not remember quite how busy it was, or when her attack could have happened.

An hour after a dinner of beans on toast, she started vomiting a black, inky liquid. Violently. It came upon her so quickly that she could not perform any counter spells or call for help. She didn't even know how to call the Wizarding equivalent of an ambulance. Was it like the Knight bus?

She stumbled to the bathtub and tried to collect the black liquid. With horror, she realised that the black was not black at all but a terribly dark red. She doubled over in pain and felt something lodge in her throat. When she manage to unstick it, she realised with trembling hands that she was holding one of her bones. She was, quite literally, puking her guts up.

For the first time in a long time, Lily began to realise quite how much she had managed to isolate herself. She had no telephone, no Muggle money. Worse, much worse, was that she couldn't even think of someone to call. The Patronus Charm was their go-to method of communication in times like this. Lily sprinted to her wand and tried desperately to conjure up something happy.

This was fifth-year magic, she reminded herself. _You have done this a million times before._

"Esplo Parorrum," she mumbled. "Etspeso Parosum!"

Blood bubbled out her mouth and down her chin.

She closed her eyes as tightly as she could and tried to work it non-verbally. She knew, in the back of her mind, that the Patronus was too powerful a spell to attempt non-verbally at the best of times, and that any message she had to give would have to be spoken aloud, but she reasoned that times of extreme pressure always increased a witch's power and volatility. In the end, the best she could get was a faint mist that she wasn't sure was even truly there.

Another wave of cramping hit her and she ran to the bathtub, this time throwing up what she hoped was one of her less important organs. This wave seemed to be so much worse, she retched and retched until the whole bottom of the bathtub was the same inky black, and something unintelligible in the back of her mind made her lean down and plug the bath, so that it didn't escape down the drain. She rested her head against the cool of the bathtub and wondered how long this would go on for. She could feel sweat dripping into her eyes, could taste the copper and vomit at the back of her throat. Would she die slowly, achingly? Or would she slip out of consciousness near the end? There were already black spots appearing in her peripheral vision, although her heart beat madly, desperately at her breast.

What an embarrassing way to go, she realised. Would the Order recognise her absence from work? She hoped they would at least have the decency to clean up and not make poor Mrs. Baker, the poor little landlady, face this.

"Bugger this," Lily resolved, and pulled herself up.

She stumbled into the bedroom, searching blindly for a spellbook that would help her with communication charms, before remembering that they had burned them all in a celebratory, "No more exams!" moment after N.E.W.T.S. She caught sight of herself in the mirror, and almost laughed. Blood dribbling down her chin and front, eyes wild and frantic, hiccoughing up what might have been an ovary. She looked like something out of a horror movie.

She ran to the living room, and staggered a little on the way. She thought about sending up a flare of sparks, but she didn't know if that would be seen. She would have used the Dark Mark, if she had known the spell. She cursed herself for having been Sorted into Gryffindor, for having gone to school and associated herself with a group of stupid, reckless, fun-loving berks who-Remus! Remus wasn't a berk and he would have thought of something, like James and Sirius' mirrors or the map.

Lily rushed to her dresser and began pulling things out frantically. At the back of the shelf was a little jewellery box and she yanked it out, praying and hoping that maybe-Yes!

Lying in the box was a Galleon, a little rusty and sad looking. She pressed it to her palm and felt it heat up, the Protean Charm they had placed on it years ago whirring into action.

"Please," she whispered. "Please. Please, please, please pleasepleasepleaseplease."

The clock on the wall ticked the seconds past and she realised it hadn't worked. He probably didn't have it on him, or had used it as currency by accident. It had been so long ago.

Lily felt her legs buckle as another terrible wave hit her. Up came her stomach. Up came her liver.

She tried frantically to think of a big spell, either illegal or sufficiently showy, that would bring the Ministry to her door, but in the end she couldn't even hold her wand in her shaking hands.

The radio was playing "Jammin'" by Bob Marley as Lily lay on her front and waited to die. Everything around her was red: her hands, her face, her carpet.

She really could not think of a more ignoble death.

She raised her hands weakly and managed to shoot some sparks out the window. She saw them settle in the sky outside and watched them until her eyes unfocused and she lost consciousness.

Lily!

She looked up weakly and saw the gentle face of Gideon Prewett.

"Alright?" Gideon said kindly.

"Gu-chk." Lily tried to speak but realised with no small amount of horror that she seemed to be choking on one long intestine.

Gideon patted her on the head. "Don't worry, poppet. We're getting you to Mungo's."

Lily tried to survey her surroundings. She was still lying in a pool of her own blood and carpet fibers, and she was still expelling most of her internal organs, but at least she wasn't alone. She could hear the reassuring thumping of Mad-Eye Moody in the kitchen, arguing with someone who may have been Fabian Prewett.

"It's one thing to risk splinching when your body isn't inside out, but bloody hell," Moody was saying.

"How else can we get her there," Fabian reasoned. "The intestines are the only thing giving us time. Once she expels her own heart… We've got five minutes, ten tops for the Mediwizards to be able to help her."

She realised slowly Gideon was saying something to her about collecting her organs, but before she could focus he had stood up again. She stared listlessly at the bottom of his Levi jeans and Doc Martins. "Oi, she's awake!" he shouted to someone who seemed to be getting sick in the corner.

Sirius Black returned with him, pale and shaking, and she tried to smile at the sight of him, but it made her choke a little worse. He dropped to his knees and ran a hand through her hair gently. "You're going to be alright," he said, and met her eyes.

She thought that this was a particularly brave thing to do considering that she was splayed out like one of those tiger or polar bear rugs that Muggles had, with her intestines spilling out of her mouth.

The retching restarted in the corner. Sirius looked around and grimaced. "That's Prongs," he said to Lily's forehead. "He prefers you outside in. To be honest I think it's a bit of an improvement."

"Are you ready?" Moody's stump came into her line of vision. Grab a hold of her arm there, and any bits still attached to her. We're going to take the rest of her with us separately. POTTER! Get a grip on yourself!"

Sirius hoisted her up with one arm and with the other gingerly gripped her insides.

James hurried over to them. His eyes were bright and his hands were shaking terribly. He pushed his forehead towards the side of her temple very briefly, breathing heavily. It was a strange comfort to Lily that they both smelled of vomit. He looked like he had a small idea of what she was going through. He released her and wrapped an arm around her waist while Sirius moved his to her shoulders, and Lily felt safe, finally, between these two stupid fools holding up her intestines in front of them like a snake.

They Apparated.

Lily had expected that once she actually got to St. Mungos, her sufferings would be over. She could be quite thick like that, for an intelligent girl.

Firstly, they made her remain conscious, and stopped the retching quite quickly, before she spat out her beating heart. But it transpired that _better out than in_ was not the mot du jour, and that Lily would be forced to choke down her own guts. This presented a lot of problems, one of which was that she kept puking them up again, but eventually they got everything jammed back in there and Lily was permitted to rest, finally.

"They're keeping you until your…bits settle." James gestured to her mid-section. "And then they're going to make sure that everything is working correctly." He sighed heavily, and rubbed his stubbled chin. "You were damned lucky, Evans."

"I don't feel too lucky right now," she grumbled, and he smiled a little.

"You're still breathing, aren't you?"

"Oh, I don't know. Give me a second to check."

"Well at least you didn't spit up your sarcasm."

"Fuck you," she moaned without much conviction.

James didn't respond, and Lily felt the silence settle over them like a warm, slightly scratchy cloak.

James cleared his throat. "So…how's work?"

At Lily's expression he held up his hands in quick surrender.

"Sorry, that was a bad one."

Lily felt a sudden and very painful lump in her throat, and knew that it had nothing to do with the Fidelius Charm and a lot to do with not knowing how to talk to James Potter. She remembered a time when she wanted to talk to him, to talk at him, to shout and moan. She remembered the beginning of their relationship, where the words would bubble out of her freely and unrestrained, and she would often have to stop mid-sentence to catch her breath. James would laugh, and pull her close, and say something devious and manipulative that was designed only to rile her up and have her spluttering into a tirade of explanations and excuses.

Now, she didn't want to talk to him at all.

No, that wasn't it. She couldn't talk to him anymore. Something was different.

"Lily," James started, and then hesitated.

"Yes?"

He looked at her for a long time and then shook his head. "Nothing. I forgot,"

"Must've been a lie," she mumbled reflexively.

"Maybe," he sighed.

The hair on the left side of his face was plastered to his head. His eyes were dark and tired, and he had the distinct posture of someone who had slept in a hospital chair all night. Lily thought it was damned unfair that he had accused her of looking like an Unspeakable when he was starting to look more and more like one as well, even if he wore it a lot better than she did.

"I'm tired," Lily told him, and he didn't need to be told twice. He stood, bones cracking and stretched. He hovered uncomfortably around the bed, unsure of what to do now that he couldn't touch her.

"Someone will be on guard," he told her. "At all time."

"Cool," she said awkwardly, and gave him a little wave. "Thanks. For, er…everything."

"Don't worry about it," he sighed, and left the room.

Sirius Black wasn't a particularly good guard. He might argue, if you told him this, that he had his eyes exactly on his charge, but you would probably argue back that his charge had left the safe area and was now bumming a cigarette from him in the courtyard.

"Menthols!" she delighted. "Have I finally managed to corrupt you?"

Sirius shrugged and lit his own one. "Peter was here earlier. Dunno if he thinks you're still playing a monster, but he chickened out of coming inside. He's coming back later for another try."

"Poor Pete," she sympathised. "He is so squeamish."

Sirius made a grunt that indicated his disapproval.

"And I'm sure his imagination has made it much worse in his head," she reasoned.

"Trust me, Lily," Sirius took a drag of his cigarette. "The human mind cannot create something that awful by itself."

Lily shrugged and lit her next cigarette off of her first. Sirius watched her with an eyebrow raised but said nothing.

"We still haven't heard from Moony," he changed the subject.

"He must be very deep undercover," Lily mused. "I hope its nothing too dangerous."

"Hmmm."

"What? You still have your suspicions because he didn't answer my distress signal? I knew it was a long shot," she tried to reason with him. "We made those coins in fifth year, and Remus is hardly in the position to hoard money."

Sirius just shrugged. "How are you feeling now?"

"Crampy," she said, and he grimaced. "My tummy's still floating around my chest cavity somewhere."

"We're going to find the people who did this," Sirius said very seriously, "but I need to know, Lily. Was it because of your job or the Order?"

Lily shook her head, her messy bun thwacking against her neck. "I don't know. I'm not doing anything actively-" the words caught in her throat as the Fidelius took control over her.

"I think it would be a good idea if you stopped standing out so much."

"What do you mean?" Lily asked, genuinely confused. "I spend all of my time working or in my flat."

"Lily," Sirius groaned. "You walk around wearing Muggle clothes at a time when Muggle-borns are being attacked left, right and centre."

"Oh please," Lily scoffed.

"I'm serious, Lily!" Sirius said angrily and shut her mouth. He took a few furious drags of the end of his cigarette. "You can't isolate yourself like this all of the time. It was a miracle we even found you. A neighbour calling 999 to complain about perpetual fireworks? It's ridiculous!" He stubbed out his cigarette violently. "Dorcas is looking for a flatmate. You remember Dorcas Meadowes? She was two years above us. She joined a few months ago. You'll like her. And more importantly, you'll have-"

"A watcher? A parole officer?"

"A companion."

"Ah," Lily groaned.

"Jesus, Lily. Just think about it."

"Alright?" Peter stuck his head through the doorway. He visibly relaxed at the lack of tentacles and blood.

"Sit down," Lily motioned.

"I can't stay long," Peter apologised, scooting around the room but not sitting. Instead he placed his hands nervously on the back of the chair.

"You look better than I expected."

"Thanks," she said a little awkwardly. "They patched me up pretty good."

"Prongs said…" he started but trailed off awkwardly.

"It wasn't nice," she admitted, feeling oddly embarrassed.

"He was puking all night!" Peter exclaimed, his voice rising sharply in pitch.

Lily smiled, feeling suddenly tired. These conversations always went the same way. Peter had lapsed into an agitated silence.

"I hate this!" he squeaked.

"Peter," Lily sighed.

"Why does it have to be like this, Lily? If you had a stupid fight, or-"

"But we didn't."

"Why do you have to act so adult about it. Prongs likes to pretend that you just drifted apart but I don't believe that."

"Well it's true," Lily said hotly. "He hated not knowing about my mission, about not knowing every single thought I possessed. I couldn't live like that and neither could he. We grew up, Peter, and we realised it wouldn't work. Why can't you just accept that?"

Peter stared at her, looking a little pale. "The thing is, Lily. The thing is…the thing is I wish you had fought half as hard to save your relationship as you have to kill it."

He stalked out of the room.

Lily stared after him, mouth agape.

"Whoa."

Lily decided to take Sirius' advice to move in with Dorcas Meadowes to a little flat in Dagenham. The world was a little more animated there, and Dorcas was a nice girl. She was fiercely devoted to her mission, which involved hunting out suspicious activity in the Improper Use of Magic Office. It was Dorcas who had flagged Lily's fireworks as suspicious, Dorcas who had put two and two together. Dorcas who had raised the alarm.

They spent a lot of time decorating their flat. They chose which wallpaper would go on the walls, what the furniture should be, what colour the bathtub should be (Lily was a big fan of avocado green). They bought the materials and spent hours on the walls and then…gave up. They tidied the rooms until they were presentable but they quite gave up on the perfect modern home they had idealised.

Mysteries had moved her on from counting Time Turners to counting Magical Watches. The work was mind-numbingly boring but Lily was quite happy to have a job that involved sitting down all day and not rocking her scarred mind or body.

It was nice, she would admit, to have someone there when she went home. Sometimes Dorcas even had dinner ready for her.

Of course, the world would not let her be, not for another while at least. There was still a war, and Lily was still playing absolutely no part in it. She bemoaned this often to Dorcas, to the extent that she could, but Dorcas, like everybody else, could not comprehend it.

"The Department of Mysteries is the home of all of the most amazing and powerful secrets of magic," she said passionately, her large eyes bugging out a bit. "If it were infiltrated by the wrong people, we could be destroyed."

"I would only know if we had been infiltrated if one of my co-workers suddenly started to display a personality," Lily said crankily.

"Don't be so mean, Lily. I'm sure it would turn anyone serious, with so many secrets in their head." Dorcas' voice reached an almost reverential whisper.

Lily made a face which she hoped expressed quite how batty she thought that was, but she wasn't sure Dorcas had caught it. Dorcas was very intelligent, but she wasn't very good at reading sarcasm. She thought Lily was lovely, as a consequence.

She brought Lily out one Saturday night. They drank in a dingy workman's bar as the only women, and consequently had the pick of the men. Lily drank wine and not her usual beer and had gotten sloppy drunk, smearing her lipstick across Dorcas' ear as she giggled on her. She had met a nice lad, a bit thick but with nice eyes, who helped her home. She kissed him, while Dorcas was throwing up in a shrub, and his arm was circling her waist.

The next day, they agreed that they had put themselves in serious danger considering the War, and that they shouldn't get silly drunk anymore, even if it was alright for the boys, who went around kissing whoever they wanted and fell about drunk pretty much any time they weren't on a mission.


End file.
